The Bootlegger's Wife: A Love Story

by Terri Lee

  “Sure.” To prove he had already taken Poppy’s lesson to heart, he continued to count his receipts in silence. As if on cue, a couple of New York’s finest entered the club and caught Poppy’s eye. The older gentleman nodded them over to Lou’s table where they slid into the booth beside him. Frankie tried to keep his eyes on his own business, but he managed to see the manila envelope slide across the table where one of the officers palmed it and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

  Of course he had heard about pay-offs and knew that it was a way of life for the club owners to operate without the threat of a raid and being shut down. A piece of the action bought a blind spot in the officer’s peripheral vision and everyone was happy. Yet for Frankie, it was an ugly scene to witness first-hand.

  It was not only the cops on the beat that were willing to look the other way, but the police commissioner himself had a meeting with Lou early one evening. Frankie didn’t see anything change hands during this little “tea party,” but the two appeared rather friendly, especially considering the harsh words the commissioner used in his recent interview about crime and his pledge to rid the New York streets of those playing fast and loose with the laws. It was all quite unsettling.

  He quickly learned that the police department’s silence allowed the alcohol to flow without reservation. This was no little enterprise hiding out in a back alley behind the façade of a garage. All the law breaking was done right out in the open. Well most it.

  Lou’s Place did have a back room, but it was for high-stakes gambling. Night after night thousands of dollars changed hands in there. Of course, Frankie shouldn’t have been surprised. When one law is so nonchalantly tossed aside, what’s the harm with one or two more thrown in the mix?

  Frankie was growing quite disillusioned with the whole scene. It was one thing to go out dancing and have a few drinks once and awhile and kick up your heels. But it was quite another to live in this world night after night, seeing what went on behind the curtain…and Frankie was holding the curtain’s drawstring.

  ***

  “Is that Baby Face Nelson with Lou?” Frankie whispered to Poppy.

  Poppy nodded. “Looks like him.”

  “I thought he stayed close to home in Chicago. What’s he doing here?”

  Poppy shrugged, unconcerned. “I dunno. Maybe he’s looking to do a little expansion.”

  “Ah shit.” Frankie muttered under his breath. The two men in the back were engrossed in conversation, while a couple of goons straight out of a dime novel stood guard at the end of the bar and Frankie looked for a quick exit. It was bad enough that they used to have regular visits from Legs Diamond, who despite his gangster lifestyle, was a very popular figure. Frankie wasn’t sure if people called him ‘Legs’ because he loved to dance or because he was always one step ahead of the law.

  Diamond’s murder earlier in the month had left Frankie a little shaken. Legs had survived other assassination attempts before three bullets to the back of the head put an end to his lucky streak. And Frankie couldn’t help wondering what if the assassination had taken place at Lou’s instead of a rooming house upstate?

  Then there were the shadowy tales of guys who had disappointed Lou and inexplicably went missing. Charlie was the most recent example. He didn’t know exactly what Charlie did for Lou, but he was always…around. He seemed to be a decent enough fellow. Always had a joke for Frankie. Just an average guy with a family to support. But he was a bit of a bumbler. Apparently, his bumbling had caught up with him.

  Frankie didn’t know what he’d done, if anything, but whatever it was, did the man deserve to be rubbed out? At least, those were the rumors he heard when he asked about Charlie’s whereabouts. What about Charlie’s wife and kids? It sent a shiver down Frankie’s spine and it was a cold reminder that he wasn’t a bookkeeper in the back of a clock shop. No matter how beautifully dressed up Lou’s Place was on the outside, it was still the underbelly of society. What went on here had no place in the light of day.

  Legs Diamond and the other low-level gangsters were one thing, however, Baby Face Nelson was in a whole new league. Frankie popped a couple of antacid pills to settle the churning in his stomach as he quietly slipped away from the front of the house to his office upstairs.

  Is it time to walk away? He looked at his desk covered with ledgers and receipts. He had socked away almost every penny of the promotion money. He and Frances would be all right until he found something else. He was going to do it. Right after Christmas. He had made up his mind.

  ***

  “Must you always put all the other wives to shame?” Frankie beamed as Frances strode into the living room dressed for the Christmas Party at Lou’s.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Always, my dear.”

  Frankie had encouraged Frances to splurge on a new dress for the occasion and she did not disappoint him. The red beaded gown shimmied and swayed with each movement and produced its desired effect on him. He would have preferred to side-step the frivolity at Lou’s tonight. Now that he’d made up his mind to quit, everything about the place annoyed him. But Frances had begged and he had caved. Besides she deserved a night of fun.

  “Let’s skip that lame party and stay home.” Frankie whispered in her ear, anyway.

  “Not a chance, Buster. You promised me a night of dancing and I’m not letting you out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of trying to get out of it.” Frankie lied. “If it’s dancing you want then dancing you shall have.” He helped Frances on with her coat. “Was Robert alright being left with Mrs. Callas?”

  Frances nodded, although she would have preferred to have left him with Sophia. But since their trusted friend was away visiting her daughter for Christmas, Serena Callas in the next building over was a competent stand-in.

  “Oh, he was fine. Her kids ran off with him and I don’t think he even noticed that I left.”

  “That’s good, because I want you to relax and have a wonderful night. We haven’t been out in ages.”

  “I know. I’m hoping some tall, silver-haired fox sweeps me off my feet tonight.” Frances bit her lip seductively.

  “This just might be your lucky night, Doll-Face.” Frankie predicted as they headed out the door.

  Lou’s was hopping on this night before Christmas Eve. It was bitterly cold outside but the dancing and warmth of smooth liquor warmed the bodies inside. Frances shrugged off her coat and was ready to hit the floor.

  “Come on, big boy, let’s show these people what you’ve got,” Frances grabbed Frankie’s hand and led him out onto the floor. He gladly followed the sway of her hips, already hypnotized. They danced and drank champagne along with the rest of the crowd and the hours flew by. Several drinks in, Frankie had successfully pushed his concerns to the back burner. Just as he and Frances snuggled into a small booth to catch their breath Sam sidled up to their table, bringing Frankie’s discomfort with him.

  Sam nodded to Frances. “Good evening, Mrs. Lee. Glad you could come this evening.”

  “Thank you, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas to you, ma’am.” Sam looked at Frankie. “The boss would like to see you.”

  Frankie set his glass down and swallowed hard. “He wants to see me now?” Lou had never said two words to him before this evening.

  “He would like to see both of you.” Sam stretched his lips in what Frances assumed he thought was a smile. But the unfamiliar action looked misplaced on his face.

  “Sure.” Frankie reached for Frances’s hand.

  Lou rose to greet them and extended his hand across the table to Frankie. “Merry Christmas, Frank.” Lou pumped Frankie’s arm with enthusiasm.

  “Merry Christmas, sir.”

  “Mrs. Lee, how lovely of you to join our little party.” Lou was the epitome of grace as he took France’s hand before waving the pair into the booth beside him.

  “Thank you.” Lou’s palm was sweaty and Frances had to resist the urge
to wipe her hand on her dress. Frances noted, though the tailoring of his suit was impeccable, it was as if he had raided someone’s closet and had slipped on an unfamiliar persona. The fine Italian silk couldn’t remove the smudges of the gangster underneath. Frances could see through the smoke of his expensive cigar and she was not impressed.

  Lou kept his gaze on Frances. “Your husband has been a great asset to my business. He has surprised me.”

  “Never underestimate Frankie.” Frances said, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Yes, I think that might be good advice. Apparently, I have already underestimated him. I had no idea he was the sort of man that would have snatched up William Durant’s daughter.”

  Frances caught her breath at the mention of her father’s name.

  Lou looked at Frankie, really seeing him for the first time. Frances could see the wheels turning in the gangster’s head as he was trying to imagine a scenario that would have placed Frankie within Frances’s orbit, but more importantly how he could exploit this connection for his gain.

  Frances squirmed and Frankie bristled.

  “Perhaps you could arrange a meeting with your father. I’m sure we’ll find that we have some mutual business acquaintances somewhere along the line.” Lou cocked his head toward Frances.

  Frances bit her tongue before the words, “I highly doubt it” could spill forth. Instead, she offered a noncommittal response. “My father never discusses his business arrangements with me.” There was no need to offer any more information or to explain her situation.

  “Fair enough.” Lou nodded, though Frances could see the flicker of disappointment.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to say Merry Christmas to you both. And to you, Frank, I wanted to say I appreciate your good work.” He handed Frankie an envelope. “Just a little Christmas bonus.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Nah. It’s nothing.” Lou waved him away. “You two kids enjoy your night.”

  “We will. Thanks again.” Frankie and Frances backed away from the table and joined hands as they made their way back to their booth.

  “How did he know I was William Durant’s daughter?” Frances whispered.

  “I have no idea. I guess it’s his business to know everything about everybody.”

  Frances frowned. For some reason, she had always been uncomfortable about Frankie’s situation here at Lou’s, she wasn’t sure why. She’d never met the man until now. Perhaps it was because she blamed this place for the imperceptible changes she’d seen in Frankie over the last six months. Something had stolen his happy-go-lucky spirit. Something was gnawing at her husband and now the cloak of uneasiness settled around her shoulders.

  “Have you had your fill of dancing?” Frankie asked.

  “Yes. I’m ready to go home.” Frances gathered her things and Frankie made a quick round of good-byes with shouts of Merry Christmas to the group of employees that were mixed in with the large crowd.

  As they bundled into the car for the short drive home, Frankie handed Frances the envelope and said, “You do the honors.”

  She ran her fingers under the sealed flap and counted out the bills. “Two thousand dollars!” She looked at Frankie in amazement.

  “Whew.” Frankie whistled. “Merry Christmas, huh?”

  “Yes, I’d say so.” She shoved the envelope into her purse with mixed feelings.

  Frankie knew flashing a few bills around to buy whatever it was he wanted from people was nothing to Lou. But the money brought no joy to Frankie. He would take it, but only to buy his escape.

  Frances snuggled closer to Frankie for warmth and rested her head on his shoulder. He could hear her tired yawn.

  The car seemed to know its way home. As they rounded the corner and turned onto their street they were met with a crowd of people and cars blocking their way.

  “What in the world?” Frances sat up to get a better look.

  An orange glow in the night sky at the end the block was all the answer she needed.

  “It’s a fire!”

  THIRTY EIGHT

  “Oh no.” Frances strained to see in the distance. Her heart leapt in her chest. “Where is it?”

  “I can’t tell yet,” Frankie answered. He was trying to maneuver the car in between the on-lookers that had spilled into the street. He honked his horn, but the throng was too thick to allow him to pass.

  “Just pull over.” Frances’s voice rose in a sense of panic.

  Frankie did as she asked and reached for her hand as they began to thread their way among the crush of people.

  “Let us pass.” Frankie pushed his way through, dragging Frances behind him.

  Please don’t let it be us, please don’t let it be us. Frances repeated over and over to herself as she doubled her steps to keep up with Frankie’s long stride.

  They finally reached the perimeter ringed with fire trucks. The December night was lit by flames from the fifth floor of the building that could no longer be contained and leapt for their freedom. The entire apartment building was engulfed, the heat almost unbearable even at this distance.

  An explosion rang out sending glowing embers raining down like malicious fireworks and policemen began to push back against the hordes.

  “Frankie!” Frances’s voice rose in alarm.

  “Stay back, folks. Stay back.” The officers did their best at crowd control.

  But Frankie and Frances pushed and shoved their way to the front.

  “My son was in that building. Where are the survivors?” Frankie yelled at the policeman.

  “I don’t know.” The cop looked around a little too casually, for Frankie’s taste. “I imagine they are scattered around here.”

  Frankie and Frances began running through the chaotic scene, screaming as they searched the sea of dazed faces.

  “Mrs. Callas, Serena!”

  They came upon a few faces they recognized, some people covered in soot, most in a state of shock. The neighborhood street was full of suddenly homeless families, clinging to one another in their pajamas like prisoners of war, on what was now Christmas Eve.

  “Serena Callas!” Frances screamed over the heads of the crowd pushing in on her.

  “Frances.” A hand reached out from the nameless sea of bodies and grabbed Frances on the shoulder. Frances and Frankie whirled around to see the thin woman covered in black smoke, hair disheveled and eyes wide in terror. She was holding one child on her hip and her son was clinging to her dress as if he would never let go.

  “Serena,” Frankie pounced. “Where’s Robert?”

  “I’m so sorry…I’m …I’m.” She broke down in sobs.

  “What?” Frances screamed. “Where is Robert?” she stared in shock at the poor woman whose mumblings were incoherent.

  “Oh, my God.” Frankie made his way back to the front of the circle and charged past the officers who were working to keep the mob in check. He ran across the hot pavement with his arm in front of his face.

  Two burly officers tackled him before he could get any closer and pulled him down to the ground. “Don’t try to be a hero. You can’t go in there.”

  “My son is in there.” Frankie struggled against them, ready to fight if need be. It took all their strength to hold him down, before finally dragging him back to a safe distance. “Robert!” Frankie threw his head back and yelled at the inferno that continued to rage on, oblivious to his pleas, as if it had a score to settle.

  After a several long moments, Frankie looked to the officer on in his right. “Have you pulled out any survivors?”

  “No. The building was engulfed when we arrived. We were unable to enter the structure. Are you sure he didn’t make it outside? Maybe someone else rescued him. This whole scene is a bit wild right now.” The older of the two policemen tried to throw Frankie a life line.

  “He’s only two,” Frankie said, the words barely audible.

  “I’m sorry, buddy.” The patrolman placed his hand on Frankie’s shoulde
r.

  Frankie struggled to stand on weak knees, watching his life going up in flames. After several lost moments, he turned to find Frances.

  She saw him walking toward her, slow and shaking. She didn’t want him to reach her, or to hear what he had to say. She held up her hand at arm’s length in a feeble attempt to stop him in his tracks. But one look at his ravaged face, and she fell to her knees.

  Her wail pierced the night. It came from somewhere deep within her, as if it started in her soul. It was primal. A sound that would ring in Frankie’s ears for years to come until he was inclined to wonder if he would ever be able to move past it. Yet Frankie envied Frances her response, for it was the only sane reaction to a world that had suddenly come undone.

  Other women were crying at the sight of her and standing with their hands over their mouths as the bond of motherhood enveloped them all. In pure instinct, they grabbed their children and held them tighter.

  Frances, still crumpled on the frozen ground continued to scream out Robert’s name while choking on her sobs. “My baby, my boy.”

  Serena Callas bent down to Frances’s level. “Frances, I’m so sorry.”

  “What have you done with my Robert?” Frances was wild and Serena recoiled from her wrath as if she’d been scalded.

  Frankie crouched down to the ground and pulled Frances to him. She buried her face in his shoulder trying to shut out the scene and the prying eyes, and Frankie smoothed her hair in a mindless trance of his own. He had no words. There were no words. How could any words capture the insidiousness of coming home from a night of laughter and dancing to find the ground had opened up beneath you and swallowed everything? He looked up into the blackened face of Serena Callas who just kept whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  The heat from the burning building was on Frankie’s back. It taunted him. Inexplicably drawn to the flames, he stood. Walking toward it. To face it. To stare it down. The fire was a monster feeding on the fear it generated. The firemen were working frantically on the adjoining buildings, for at his point there was nothing left to be done.